


Sentimentality

by rathernotmyname



Series: Fictober! 2020 [23]
Category: Papillon (2018) RPF
Genre: Boys in Skimpy Pants, Charlie does not like it, Charlie is Smitten, Fences being Assholes, Fictober! Day 23, Hot Weather, M/M, Rami does like it, Sentimental Rami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28088235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rathernotmyname/pseuds/rathernotmyname
Summary: Rami takes Charlie out for an unconventional date. It's too hot to be horny, unfortunately.
Relationships: Charlie Hunnam/Rami Malek
Series: Fictober! 2020 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050200
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Sentimentality

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note:  
> I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING HOSTED OR REPOSTED ON ANY UNOFFICIAL APPS OR WEBSITES OTHER THAN ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN WITHOUT MY APPROVAL, PARTICULARLY APPS WITH AD REVENUE AND SUBSCRIPTION SERVICES.

When Charlie opens the door to greet Rami on the other side, he feels as if he’s punched in the face by the air alone.

“Hi,” Rami says, face scrunched in confusion at the sight of Charlie’s mouth gaping and his hands waving in front of his face. “Are you choking? Is something wrong? Should I call an ambula-”

“Hot,” Charlie wheezes, retreating back into the doorway. “I mean, hello Rami. It’s hot outside.”

Rami raises his eyebrows. “Well, yeah. Didn’t you go outside the last few days?”

“No. I stayed inside with my AC, watching the weather report and being scared about my patio melting into the sewer.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Rami briefly thinks about telling Charlie that today is the first day since the heatwave started that Sami could convince him to wear shorts, but that might make him grumpy. ‘I’m a Brit,’ he’d say. ‘The hottest temperature I’m used to is 70 degrees Fahrenheit, California boy.’ 

(Rami likes it when Charlie calls him that. Not that he’ll ever admit it.)

Instead of boasting about his own heat tolerance, Rami says: “Well, are you gonna come out or will I have to get a cold inside with you?” 

(Okay, that’s not much better.)

But it’s enough for Charlie, because he can’t bear it when Rami is sick, God bless him. 

“I’ll see if I find the skimpiest shorts I have.”

The ‘skimpiest shorts’ don’t turn out as skimpy as Rami’s horny brain had hoped, but they fit Charlie very well. Maybe Rami looks at his butt when they walk down the stairs, but who’s there to judge him? 

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Charlie asks while he cleans his sunglasses with the rim of his t-shirt, biceps and shoulders flexing when he rubs at a particularly stubborn stain. God damn it, Rami, Rami thinks. Right places, right times, alright?

“Well, I was going to drive us to the Hollywood sign, but since you already look like you’re going to collapse, I’m inviting you for ice cream.”

“I love you,” Charlie blurts out.

“Me too,” Rami says quickly before he can apologize. “That’s why I’m taking you to my favorite ice cream parlor. They have something called ‘spaghetti ice cream’. The Germans came up with it, funnily enough. If you had it once, you’ll never want anything else, you can believe me on that.”

Charlie looks a little overwhelmed from their rapid-fire exchange of affection and Rami’s short rant, but he’s smiling, a truly beautiful smile that makes Rami feel as if he’s showered with buckets full of love. 

He ends up being right – Charlie sings songs of praise over the spaghetti ice cream that makes even the waiters blush in happy abashment. 

“When my career comes to an end, I’ll open an ice cream parlor, and I’ll only do spaghetti ice cream, in every possible combination. Spaghetti Carbonara, Spaghetti and meatballs, Lasagna ice cream…”

“Can I be a waiter?” Rami asks while hooking his arm through Charlie’s as they wander up the path to the back of the Hollywood sign. 

“You’re gonna be my main waiter. And taste-tester.”

“I’m gonna get so fat.”

“We both will. Part of the job, innit?”

They’re still giggling when they search for a way to climb over the fence that protects the sign from vandals. 

“When I was a kid, we would go here after school sometimes,” Rami reminiscences, staring up at the barbed wire in contempt. “It was much easier to get onto the sign back then. I liked to sit inside of the second ‘O’. Sami climbed on top of the ‘W’ once when we were 9 or ten, and he almost peed his pants because it was so high up.”

Charlie joins him in his giggling fit, still walking alongside the fence, searching for a way through. 

They end up walking up and down the whole thing for almost two hours and discuss various techniques, like putting a jacket on top of the barbed wire (“My jacket is way too expensive for that, to be honest.” “Yeah… mine, too.”) or digging a hole underneath the fence (“I didn’t think of bringing a shovel. Damn it.” “Can’t we do it with our hands?” The ground is way too firm for that. We’re not gonna come very far.” “Damn it.”) before giving up.

“Killjoys. All of them,” Rami grumbles.

“Well, I can’t deny that I would have taken the ‘H’ with me, as a souvenir. You know? Like: ‘I was in Hollywood and all they had was my last initial’, except that it’s bigger than my house,” Charlie jokes, but he stops talking at the sour glance he receives. He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Rami plops down on the dusty ground, legs outstretched and arms crossed like a pouting child. 

“I really wanted to show you the sign. Properly. And it also sucks because it’s part of my childhood, and now it’s just not possible anymore.” 

Charlie flounders a little, then he sits down next to Rami, slinging an arm around him and pulling him close to press a kiss to his temple, relieved when he feels Rami smile at it.

“I understand that. It sucks.” 

Rami nods and snuggles his head into the junction of Charlie’s head and neck.

“But this is still nice,” Charlie continues, lifting his head to watch the orange-red sun setting over Los Angeles, “even if it’s not like you planned. I mean, our trip to the ice cream parlor wasn’t planned, either.”

“You’re right. I’m just a little sentimental,” Rami admits, turning his head so his nose is pushed up against Charlie’s jaw, taking in the smell of his aftershave and salty, warm skin. 

“Well then, let’s be sentimental together,” Charlie says, wrapping his arms a little tighter around Rami. “Let’s start with me: I’m very sentimental because it’s getting cooler now and I forgot to turn off the AC when I went out, so my house is going to have the climate of a refrigerator when I come back.”

Rami guffaws. “And what’s there to be sentimental about?”

Charlie presses another kiss to Rami’s temple, making him let out a noise that sounds like a purr.

“I’m gonna be sentimental about always feeling just right when I’m with you. Not too cold, not too warm. Hell, I didn’t even notice the heat anymore as soon as I got into your car.”

Rami lifts his head, looking up at Charlie with wide eyes, almost overflowing with affection. “Charlie,” he chokes out, arms flying around his boyfriend before he kisses him soundly on he mouth. 

When they make their way back to the car fifteen minutes later, Rami’s hand in the back pocket of Charlie’s skimpy shorts, Charlie half-turns to look back at the fence. 

“Gotta agree with you,” he says, shaking his head in mock-annoyance. “Whoever thought to reinforce that fence is a proper cunt.”

Rami’s loud laughter accompanies them up to the end of the hill.

**Author's Note:**

> Rumor has it that the skimpy shorts mysteriously shrunk in the washing machine just two days later.  
> (This is just me projecting my childhood nostalgia onto Rami, don't mind me.)  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
